


Running Down a Dream

by bashert



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Post-Season 2, Running, married-ness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:30:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1300030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bashert/pseuds/bashert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mac convinces Will to train for a half marathon. It doesn't go well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running Down a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm still working on my other story, but I am, like poor Will and Mac, training for a half marathon and I was running last night and the idea came to me. Plus it's been a stressful week, so I needed some silly fluff. The title is from Tom Petty, because the only thing better than silly fluff is Tom Petty.

With every painful step, Will wondered how in the hell his wife got him to agree to do this.

For the second damn time, too.

She was a few feet ahead of him, her ass so nicely showcased in a pair of tight, compression running pants. He teased her that he let her run ahead of him so that he could check her out as she bounced along, but the truth was that he couldn't keep up with her. His knees creaked with every step reminding him that he was too damn old for this. He had been too damn old the first time they signed up, and he certainly had not gotten any younger.

"It's just a _half_ marathon," Mac had argued, a pout forming on her lovely face. He was useless when she pouted. Even though he thought she lost her damn mind.

Only a half. Only. Just a little over 13 miles. Was she fucking crazy?

"That's a half more of a marathon than I care to run," Will countered. Mac sighed, running her hand down his arm and leaning in to nip at his neck.

"Okay, if you don't want to run it, that's okay. I can try to convince someone else to run with me. I think Don runs?" Will highly doubted that, and also doubted that Don could be pulled away from Sloan long enough to train for a half marathon. Her mouth was now moving up his neck towards his ear, and she grabbed his ear lobe between her teeth. She tugged lightly before pulling back. "I just thought it would be nice, something for us to do together. It was fun the first time we trained, right?" She tilted her head and bit her lip and looked so fucking adorable that Will almost forgot how awful training for the full marathon had been.

Sure, it had featured Mac in those tight pants, and yes, during the training, he had been in the best shape since his twenties, and that had lead to direct benefits in their sex life, but it also meant leaving bed early on weekend mornings, and you know, _running._ And he loved their lazy weekend mornings.

"There were some benefits to it, yes," Will conceded. Her hands were now wandering, and he was having a hard time focusing on the conversation at hand. Which was her goal, of course, to distract him enough to say yes, and damn if it wasn't working.

"And we did all that training and we didn't even get to run it, wouldn't you like to actually run it?" Mac continued. They hadn't run it because Mac had sprained her ankle at the starting line. She claimed that she was sabotaged, tripped up by an invisible assailant, and Will had been outwardly outraged on her behalf, but privately thought that she probably tripped over her own two feet.

He had scooped her up, and carried her to the first aid tent, Mac protesting the whole way that one of them should try to run it, but he had been firm.

"I'm not leaving you here," he huffed. "What kind of asshole leaves their injured girlfriend behind?"

"You'd have made a good marine," she smiled at him. "Leaving no soldier behind." He had grinned, tucking a kiss into her hair and later, after her ankle had been wrapped and diagnosed as severely sprained, helping her hobble to their bed and trying to take her mind off the disappointment of not actually finishing, or even _starting_ , the race.

"I don't really care that we didn't get to run it," he shrugged, and Mac's hands stopped and he immediately felt the loss of her warm hands on his body.

"Well, _I_ care," Mac insisted. "I'm going to sign up for the half. I'd love it if you signed up with me." She gave him her most winning smile, leaned in to give him a long, languid kiss, and he was done for.

He remembered, as he watched his wife's ponytail swish back and forth, why he hadn't run since. Because it _sucked_.

"Mac?" He called out, his breath short and his face red. She was in much better shape than him, he knew that, and she didn't smoke, another plus in her column, but he still couldn't believe she wasn't even winded yet.

Mac spun around, not stopping her jog, just jogging backwards and her eyebrows sloped down in concern. She moved towards him, her hands going to her waist and frowned at him.

"You okay, honey?" She asked, and Will stopped, his hands going to his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. "We haven't even gone a full mile yet."

"I think we overestimated my ability to run this thing," he said, and Mac's hand came to rest on his back. "You married an old man, sweetheart. I think you need to keep that in mind from time to time."

"You're not old," she scoffed. "You're just out of shape. And of course, those cancer sticks don't help."

"I don't smoke nearly as often as I used to," he argued, which was true. It was a concession he made to MacKenzie when they had gotten married, and he tried to stick to it. He wanted to be around for a long time, and the pleased, bright smile that Mac had given him when he announced he was quitting was motivation enough.

"We can walk a little bit," Mac assured, and he straightened up, his body aching, and she reached for his hand.

"What's a little bit? The rest of the way? Because I'd like to walk the rest of the way," Will replied, and Mac chuckled, leaning into his side.

"You don't have to do this," she said, her voice sincere. "Honestly. I just wanted us to get into shape."

"I can think of infinitely more pleasant ways to get exercise," he leered at her, and she laughed and pinched his side. "And if we continue to run, I don't think I'll be able to move, let alone be able to take part in those activities."

"Okay," Mac finally conceded. "I'm still going to run it, but you're off the hook. As long as you come down to cheer me on."

"I'll be waiting at the finish line," he promised. "Or, do you think it's safer for me to wait at the starting line? You know, make sure you actually _start_ this time."

"Be quiet," she instructed, and he leaned down to kiss her.

"Will do," he replied.

"You know," Mac mused. "I'm going to have sore muscles after my long runs. I'll probably need my husband to give me some massages, maybe run me a hot, bath. And since _he's_ not running too, he'll be happy to do so, right?" Will chuckled, dropping his nose into her hair.

"Right," he drawled.

"Great," she grinned. "Well, you walk home and get that bath started, and I'll see you there." She pinched his ass, leaned up on her toes to give him a quick kiss, and then jogged away.

He was going to argue, shout after her that he thought they had plans to crawl back in bed and work on exercising different muscles, but instead he let himself have a good, long look at his wife's backside and then shook his head and trudged home.

 


End file.
